Drool Baby (A Dog Park Mystery) (Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries) (5 page)

"Worse," Anna said. "She wants us to pool our money and rent a suicide machine for Roger."

"You can rent suicide machines?"

"Apparently," Lia said dryly, "you're only ten painless seconds away from heaven."

"Sounds like a carbon dioxide generator," Terry said. "Is it in an enclosed space?"

"It's a porta-potty," Marie stated.

"Marie," Nadine said seriously, "I hope you aren't going to show that to Roger. That would be cruel. He's not here, is he?"

"Nadine, you're a spoilsport. Oh, all right, if you insist."

"I do insist," Nadine said firmly.

"Nadine," Lia said. "Marie's pulling your leg. She would never show that to Roger, would you, Marie?"

"Nah, I guess not. Officer Friendly here might arrest me for assisting a suicide."

"Marie, dear, your sense of humor is sometimes a bit much," Nadine said delicately. "I can't tell when you're joking and when you're not."

"Hey, I didn't invent the machine. It was some other twisted puppy who did that. I was minding my own business, looking for a head-set. Don't worry. I
promise I won't show Roger."

"Thank you," Nadine responded.

"Speaking of Roger, how did it go?" Lia asked Terry.

"How did what go?"

"The meeting? Roger? Spill!"

"Yes, Terry, do tell," Anna asked.

"I can't believe you two conned Roger into giving me a ride to AA."

"Really?" Anna asked. "You can't believe we did it or that he fell for it?"

"Neither. Well, he grumbled all the way there, and he said he was just giving me a ride and it didn't mean anything. Then he stared up at the ceiling all
during the lead. Then afterwards all my female friends came up and wanted to know who he was. He was chum on the water."

"Seriously?"

"He's decided he can give me a few more rides, but he still said he was going to crack a forty-ouncer when he got home."

"It's a start," Anna said.

"Indeed it is. Brilliant of you to come up with the scheme."

"That was Lia, I just helped. It was really kind of you, Lia. Peter, you should have seen her. Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth." Anna said.

"That's my girl," Peter said.

"It was nothing," Lia said. "Terry was the one who had to listen to him grumble."

"He was humming on the ride home. And that was one Friday night he didn't spend wondering where Gina was, at least for part of the evening."

Lia and Nadine were helping Anna with her crossword. Marie was scanning the park. She spied a pair of familiar figures crossing the acreage, dodging a
mosh-pit of beagles near the corral. "Oh, here comes the walking I-wish-I-were-dead," She announced.

"Marie!" Anna and Nadine scolded simultaneously.

"Be nice. You promised," Nadine said.

Terry clomped up in his walking cast, Roger with him. "Hail to the Fearsome Foursome," he said.

"Hey, Terry, how are you doing, getting around in that thing?" Lia asked.

"Greetings, all. It comes off in a few more weeks. I, like Lazarus, will not be kept down."

"Lazarus?" Anna asked sweetly. "I'm thinking more like a bad burrito."

"Direct hit!" Terry clutched at his chest dramatically. "What did I do to deserve such cruelty?"

"So how are the AA meetings?" Lia asked Roger.

"Oh, they're okay."

"Ha!" said Terry. "Our Roger has captured the attention of several members of the usually, and present company excepted, gentle sex. They crowd around him
like moths to a flame."

"Oh, really?" Anna said.

"It's the haunted cowboy expression," Terry said. "They can't get enough."

"Is this true, Roger?" Lia asked.

"I guess so," Roger shrugged.

"Tell us all about your new girlfriends," Anna said.

Marie and Nadine walked up just in time to hear this last. "New girlfriends, Roger?" Nadine inquired.

"We must know all," Marie added.

"They're just a couple of women, they talk to me at the meetings."

"Are they pretty?" Nadine asked.

"They're okay," Roger said. "They're younger'n me," he added, as if this were inconceivable. "One of 'em's under forty, even."

"So what does Gina think about all this?" Anna asked.

"Gina? She don't know because she ain't been around. I oughtta tell her to pucker up an' kiss my ass."

"Better take back that car you bought for her first," said Terry.

"Aw, that was a gift. I can't take back a gift."

"My friend, you also can't continue to drive that bucket of bolts you call an automobile."

"I'll do something' but I'm not taking back a gift. I love Gina, even if she treats me bad."

"But Roger," Marie asked, "how will you explain to your new girlfriend that you can't buy her a car because you're too broke paying off the one you bought
for your old girlfriend?"

"I ain't got a new girlfriend. They probably don't like me that way, anyway. Besides, I couldn't live without Gina."

"Roger," Anna said, "You are living without Gina. You just said she's not around."

"I don't' wanna talk about it anymore. I'm takin' Maddie an' Lacy for a walk."

Marie watched him go and said, "What's the verdict? Do I need to send my black suit to the cleaners?"

"He hasn't said anything lately about killing himself, if that's what you mean," Terry said. "He's still drinking, but I think the meetings are doing him
some good."

"Too bad you can't keep your cast on for a few extra months until it has a chance to sink in," Lia said.

"I'm hoping he'll keep coming back for the women," Terry said.

"He's a nice man," Nadine said. "He had a hard time of it when his wife died. It would be nice to see him with someone who really appreciates him."

Well," said Marie, "That won't happen until he stops chasing someone who doesn't."

"Alas," said Terry, "true insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results."

"I'll keep the black suit handy, just in case," Marie said.

Jim looked up from his solitary pursuit of Sudoku to see a slightly built black man in a navy t-shirt and shorts approaching his picnic table. It was
midmorning on a Friday and the park was otherwise empty. Kita lifted her head, watching the stranger, eyes focused and alert while the rest of her sprawled
on top of the table. Fleece lay under the table, unconcerned.

"You're right, Kita. He doesn't have a dog. That's very suspicious." Jim watched as the man crossed the acreage, not fast, not slow, and heading straight
for Jim as if he knew him.

When he was ten feet away, Kita sat up on her haunches. The stranger stopped. "I'm Frank. You must be Jim."

"I'm Jim," Jim agreed. "How do you know me?"

"We have a friend in common. She told me I could find you here. Can we talk?"

Jim gestured to the other end of his bench. "Have a seat. Who's your friend?"

"Her name is Bailey, and if I'm not mistaken, this is Kita, her dog." Kita tilted her head at her name. Frank held out his hand to her. Kita sniffed it,
considered, and relaxed. Frank ran his hand along her head. "She sure misses you. Calls you her Drool Baby. Now why would she give you a silly name like
that?"

"Frank," Jim interrupted, "Bailey and I aren't exactly friends."

"She could sure use one right now."

"I took in her dog, but I don't want to get mixed up with her problems. It's up to the court to sort that out. How do you know her?"

"I'm an orderly at the psych unit where she's undergoing treatment."

"Then you know she's crazy."

"I know she's been very ill. There seems to be more going on than just Bailey's bi-polar condition. Is it true you've had two deaths and an accident with
other dog park patrons?"

"Is that what she told you? I didn't know she was talking to anyone. I thought she was cata-something."

"Catatonic. She's come out of it. She told me that, and that some people believe she's responsible. What do you think?"

"I know she held a gun to Lia's head. Did she tell you that? Why did you come to me?"

"Bailey says she was stable on her medication for eight years before this happened, and she never stopped taking her meds. She thinks someone tampered with
her pills and it sent her into a schizophrenic episode. She thinks, and I agree, that the police are likely to sweep this under the rug and ignore it. Her
doctor is a real twit. So she's hiding the fact that she's doing better. I'm the only one who knows. "

"So you want me to believe that someone made Bailey pull a gun on Lia? How would they know she'd do that?"

"She said someone was coaching her in a metaphysical forum, got her thinking all twisted around while she was in a vulnerable state and convinced her that
it would be a loving act to send someone on to the next life. She said they didn't name anyone specifically. I checked the forum. Bailey's posts are still
there, but the other posts have been pulled."

Jim's wheels were turning. Last summer, Peter Dourson had been convinced there was someone stalking dog park patrons. Is it possible it wasn't Bailey?
"What do you think I can do? Why come to me?"

"Bailey says you're the most trustworthy of her dog park friends. Not out of loyalty to her, you understand, just that you're a principled man. Her first
choice would be Lia, but of course, that's impossible."

Jim's mouth twitched in embarrassment at the compliment. "That was nice of her to say. But I still don't see how I can help you."

"We were thinking, the first thing that needs to happen is to get her Depakote to a lab and see if someone tampered with it. Then we could go from there."

Jim nodded, acknowledging the sense of this. "There's a problem. We need a police presence to verify chain of custody. Who's to say we didn't tamper with
the pills?"

"I see what you mean. Who would take this seriously?"

"Peter would take this seriously. But he's off the case."

"Peter? Would that be Detective Dourson? The officer who arrested Bailey? Why would he be off the case?"

"He's dating Lia. Conflict of interest."

"Then how can he help?"

"Peter will take this seriously, and he'll know what to do and where to go."

Peter opened the door of Sitwell's Coffee House and cautiously entered. He hesitated just inside the door. The dark, funky restaurant was full of old,
mismatched tables and chairs. The walls were covered with a showing by a local artist, of the kind of art Peter would never understand. There were laptops
open on almost every table, taking advantage of the free wifi. One wall was painted with the slogan, "Friends don't let friends go to Starbucks."

A woman at the large, round table in front stood up. She was medium height, with short, wavy blond hair. Her hair was not styled, and her face was clean of
make up. Still, to Peter, she should have been wearing her hair in a bob dating back to the Forties. She should be wearing bold, stop-sign red lipstick.
Her squarish black glasses should have cat's-eye frames. She felt very retro, in contrast with the hip clientele. She gave him an appreciative up-and-down
look and smiled. "Hi, there, you look lost." Her voice was husky, friendly, and confident. It spoke of speakeasies and smokey rooms.

"I am, a bit," Peter said.

"I'm Lisa, this is my place. What can I help you with?"

"I'm looking for someone. He's about your height and bearded, an older gentleman."

"Oh, you mean Treebeard."

"Treebeard?"

"You know, the ent in
Lord of the Rings
."

Peter smiled at the comparison. "That would be him."

"He's in the back, in the only booth. He's the guy without a laptop."

Peter worked his way through the tightly packed tables. Lisa returned to her companions. He heard her laugh at something one of them said. It was a Betty
Davis laugh.

Peter spotted Jim immediately and slipped into the empty side of the booth. "I never would have guessed this was your kind of place."

"It's not," Jim said. "I didn't want to run into anyone we know."

"Lia comes here sometimes. She likes the salads," Peter pointed out.

"Does she? Then maybe we should leave."

"It's okay, she's seeing a client today."

They were interrupted by a waitress with a crew cut, a pierced nose, and colorful tattoos on each arm. A tattoo of a Japanese-style goldfish wrapped around
her neck. Peter ordered a cup of coffee. When she was gone, he asked, "Okay, what's all the secrecy about?"

"I don't know how you're gonna feel about this," Jim started.

"Neither do I. I won't know until you tell me."

Jim pointed his chin at the waitress returning with Peter's coffee and remained silent. When she left, Peter asked, "What is this, Mission: Impossible?"

Jim nodded to himself, affirming his decision to talk to Peter. He placed both palms flat on the table and leaned across so he could speak quietly.
"Remember that conversation we had a couple months ago? About a serial killer?"

"What about it?" Peter frowned.

"I had a visit from this fellow earlier today. He works at the hospital where Bailey is. He says she thinks someone messed with her medication and that
made her go crazy."

Peter snorted in disbelief as he rolled his eyes. "Seriously?"

Jim sighed, "I was afraid you'd take it that way."

Peter was angry. "How am I supposed to take it? She attacked Lia. You were there! I can't believe you'd buy into this. And if Bailey's responsive, I need
to report that so she can be brought to court."

"It's not that simple. Hear me out. He also said she was being manip . . . manipliate . . ."

"Manipulated?"

"Manipulated by someone online, and they pulled their posts later. I went online and saw Bailey's posts. There may be something to this. I don't know if I
believe it. But what if it's true? Too many things happened this summer. Were you ever able to connect Bailey to Luthor or Catherine's death in any way?"